


God Help Me, Part 5

by ErinGayle



Series: God Help Me [5]
Category: Jojo Rabbit (2019)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, Kids fighting, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinGayle/pseuds/ErinGayle
Summary: November is that dark, cold, wet bureaucratic month between the last sunny days of fall and the wonder of Advent.
Relationships: Freddy Finkel/Captain Klenzendorf, Rosie Betzler/Captain Klenzendorf
Series: God Help Me [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819291
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

##  November

###  Saturday, November 4

When Rosie dropped off Jojo on Saturday morning, Karl and Freddie were in the staff car waiting. Karl confirmed that Rosie would be back on the 5 o’clock train. Rosie looked at Jojo sitting giddily in the middle seat of the staff car. “You behave, or I’ll have Captain Klenzendorf stick you in a sack and mail you to Moscow.”

Jojo raised his startled eyebrows. “Yes, Mama.”

Freddie smiled in the dark of the front seat. Maybe Rosie had finally stopped being mad about the hand grenade. “Ready to go, sir?”

“Drive on.” Karl looked in the side mirror and saw Jojo waving enthusiastically to Rosie. It was going to be a day. “Johannes, one toe out of line, and I’ll tie you to the front bumper of the truck we’re using today.”

Jojo sat primly in the seat. “Yes, sir.”

In the motor pool, Freddie filled out the paperwork to temporarily exchange the staff car for an Opel truck meant for carrying troops and equipment. Karl and Jojo hung back in the old brick stables converted to maintenance bays and an office. Jojo started looking around, and Karl caught him by the hand. “You just stay right here with me,” Karl told Jojo, without turning loose the boy’s hand. 

The motor sergeant thought he recognized Jojo. “Isn’t that the kid who stole a hand grenade and blew himself up?”

“Yep,” Freddie answered as he signed the form. “His mother said if he acts up today to mail him to Moscow and let the Russians deal with him.”

The sergeant burst out laughing while he swapped the vehicles on his hand receipt ledger. Jojo heard the whole exchange and barely looked up at Karl, who was looking down at him. “Don’t worry, Jojo. I only have enough stamps to get you to Munich.”

Jojo cringed and resolved to be the perfect little DJ. Karl started to walk out to the large parking area, and Jojo followed along. Freddie happened to see Karl and Jojo walking away, Karl’s unbuttoned greatcoat billowing out behind him and still holding Jojo by the hand. Freddie wondered if Karl had ever wanted to have children of his own.

They drove the truck back to the HJ building and left it parked on the street at the front doors. Karl had a seat in his office while Freddie and Jojo checked over the gear to be taken out to the range. When the older boys began arriving just before seven, several laughed and teased Jojo that they were going to be using him for target practice. Jojo blushed with both embarrassment and anger, but he kept quiet. Freddie handed him a clipboard. “Go down to the truck and check off everything as it is loaded by the older boys. Don’t let them bully you, Jojo.”

The boys ignored Jojo and just heaved things in the back without letting him check them off. Then, they all piled in before Jojo could call the names on the roll. As he shouted the names, the older boys ignored him and talked loudly among themselves. Karl’s right eyebrow lifted in annoyance. “Sergeant Finkle, take care of this,” he said as locked the building.

Freddie whistled sharply. “Oy! Off the truck!” He glared at the teens as they hopped down. “Now, Betzler is going to call the first name on the roll. That boy is going to hop up there and confirm all the gear on the truck. After that, Betzler is going to call each name, and that boy can get on the truck. If your name isn’t called, you’d better not be on the truck.”

The teenaged boys scowled at Jojo. “Amsel, Matthias.” Jojo tried to use his most authoritative voice. Matthias hopped onto the bed and waited for Jojo to call out each item on his list. When he was finished and the entire list checked, Jojo slowly called each boy’s name. Once all fourteen boys were in the truck, he returned the clipboard to Freddie. 

“Good job, Jojo.” Freddie said. He reached out and caught Jojo by the collar as the boy started to try and climb on the back. “You’re up front.”

Jojo frowned in disappointment. “I thought the guys all got to ride in the back.”

“You’re not a guy today, kid. You’re staff. Staff ride with the heat.” Freddie didn’t mention he was confident the older boys would dangle Jojo over the side like bait. He pushed Jojo toward the truck’s cab and then had to give him a boost up.

“He’s been good?” Karl asked as he lit a cigarette after lunch. The older boys had spent the morning shooting with Karl and Freddie helping improve their aim and accuracy. Jojo spent the morning chopping vegetables, tending the soup on the fire, running to refill canteens, running ammunition, putting up and taking down targets. Freddie had kept him busy, and hopefully tired him out some. Jojo ate his lunch alone by the fire while the older boys sat with their friends.

“Not a toe out of line.”

Karl nodded. “Alright. It’s one. Have them clean the rifles then try and talk to them about indoctrination camp. God knows they’ll all end up there this winter.”

Freddie kicked his toe on the newly frozen ground. “I don’t see how conscripting schoolboys is going to win us a war.”

“Just keep that to yourself.” Karl hastily finished his cigarette then picked up his favorite rifle and a few boxes ammunition. “Betzler! With me!”

Jojo hopped up and ran after Karl. “Yes, Captain K?”

“I think you’ve earned a little range time, hmm?” There was even a hint of a smile on Karl’s face.

Jojo smiled broadly. Between approval from Karl and getting to shoot, Jojo secretly wanted to dance.

Freddie supervised the rifle cleaning, but he also kept a watch on Karl and Jojo. Karl was being much more attentive to Jojo in helping him learn to shoot than he had been with the other young boys over the summer. There was only Jojo today, though, and Jojo didn’t have the best safety record. However, Freddie could see that Karl was intent on teaching properly and Jojo learning properly. Karl was kneeling, sitting cross legged, and laying on the frozen ground, positioning and repositioning Jojo. Karl had once mentioned that he learned to shoot long before the Army, and Freddie assumed Karl’s father taught him how to handle a rifle. Karl was obviously enjoying himself. He even had out his binoculars so that they didn’t have to walk down to the target.

Once Jojo shot all of ammunition, he and Karl retrieved his target and walked back to the truck and fire circle. Jojo reflexively took Karl’s hand in his. Karl didn’t resist it. In his short time with the HJs, he’d discovered that what most of the children desperately needed was a father’s affection. He’d been cheerfully Heiled more than he ever thought possible, but he had also found himself congratulating more, hugging more, consoling more, and blotting more unsuppressed tears. 

“What’s it like at the front? Is it exciting?”

Karl glanced down at Jojo. He had resolved to always keep this particular child on his left where he still had peripheral vision. “Yeah, it’s exciting. It’s also terrifying. I mean people are shooting at you intent on killing you. And, then there’s stuff blowing up, and bits and pieces of shrapnel, concrete, wood flying around so fast you really can’t see it. You can’t hear anything but noise. You have to scream to be heard. You get knocked off your feet from the concussion of explosions. What they never tell you about is the blood and guts. The bodies, the pieces of bodies, slipping in guts as you move. It’s like a demented abattoir.”

Jojo looked up at Karl, whose good eye had shifted somewhere far away. “Why do you want to go back then?”

“It’s where a soldier belongs.” Karl felt his chest tighten as he pushed away the horrific memories from almost always being with one of the first companies in the vanguard or at the very back of the rearguard. “Anyway, I’m probably here for the duration. You know, the eye thing.”

“Do you think I’ll ever get to the front?”

“God, I hope not,” Karl said sincerely.

One of the older boys happened to see Karl and Jojo walking up from the range line. “Oh, my God! The Rabbit can’t even walk across a field without an adult holding his hand.”

Another boy laughed. “Jojo Rabbit, the love child of Frau Betzler and Cap—” a shadow loomed over him.

Freddie glared down. “Rifles,” he demanded and snapped his fingers.

Both the boys handed Freddie the rifles they were cleaning for a third time. “Hmm,” Freddie said opening the chamber and running the bolt a few times. “No. No. This one neither. Clean them again.”

“But, Sergeant Finkle, that’ll be the fourth time!”

Freddie smiled. “You know what happens when you become a sergeant? You gain the power to see microscopic dust with your naked eye. It’s amazing! Clean them again.”

Karl smiled approvingly at the circle of boys industriously cleaning their rifles. “Jojo, let me show you how to clean a rifle.” He took Jojo a bit away from the other boys, since Freddie was pouring himself a cup of coffee from the percolator. Sergeants pouring coffee meant there was going to be soldier story hour. Karl wasn’t sure it would be appropriate for a ten year old. They slowly cleaned the rifle twice: the first time Karl cleaned while explaining what he was doing and why and the second time Jojo did it. Karl could half hear what Freddie was telling the boys. He didn’t know if it would help. He felt they had to do everything possible to prepare the boys for the worst. There was no point in filling their heads with glory when misery was all that lay in wait. He caught Jojo’s eyelids drooping and walked over to the fire with two coffee cups.

“Captain K, anything you remember about indoctrination camp?”

Karl poured coffee into both cups. His time at indoctrination had been as a staff officer in recovery. He thought of the most memorable but useful advice he could give. “Change your socks, shave your groin and armpits, and take a good scarf.” The mention of the groin had every boy tightly squeezing his thighs together while his ears burned. Karl left them with that wisdom.

“Sergeant Finkel, why would we need to shave…down there?”

Freddie took a deep breath. “Well.”

Karl and Jojo were sitting on the running board of the truck. Karl handed Jojo a cup of coffee. Jojo stared into the black brown liquid. “I’m not allowed to drink coffee.”

“You’re cold, been up since 4, sitting on the running board of a truck, waiting for a bunch of guys to finish and pack up camp. This is the Army, kid. Don’t worry. Finkle makes the coffee with sugar in it.”

“Aren’t you supposed to add it?” Jojo blew on the hot liquid then experimentally tasted it.

“You, me, your mother, the rest of the world. Everybody except Freddie Finkle’s mother in Dortmund. It’s honestly the worst coffee I’ve ever had.” Karl smiled as he shook his head. He’d been drinking Freddie’s terrible coffee for two years and never once complained.

The revelation about body lice broke a dam of embarrassing questions, that Freddie tried to answer as honestly and with appropriate vocabulary as possible. Once Freddie and the older boys had exhausted those topics, Freddie portioned out the remaining soup then directed packing up. Karl walked off and had a cigarette. He watched Jojo hold the clipboard, and this time the boys were more cooperative with the sergeant’s small helper. The sun was setting, and Karl wanted to get the older boys back before full dark. He and Freddie would still have to go back out to the motor pool and swap vehicles again. 

“Wow. He is still passed out,” Freddie said looking into the cab of the truck. Jojo was laying across the whole seat. They had come back to the HJ building and unloaded then sent all the older boys home. Freddie looked at his wristwatch. “It’s 4:45.”

Karl didn’t want to leave the staff car in anyone else’s custody for too long. They might strip it. “Swing by the train station. Maybe we can catch Frau Betzler and give her a ride home.”

Freddie stepped up on the running board and pushed Jojo into a sitting position before he got in then Karl leaned the boy on himself. Freddie arrived at the train station as the train came to a groaning halt. When Karl hopped out to find Rosie, Jojo flopped over onto Freddie. Karl came back alone. “There’s an accident on the line. The train from Nuremberg will be late.”

“What do you want to do with Jojo?”

“Take him with us, I guess.” Karl put his arm around Jojo, who was back to leaning into him. It was fully dark by the time they returned to the motor pool. “You put this back, and I’ll handle the paperwork.”

Freddie nodded and dropped Karl off at the office. Karl woke Jojo up enough that he slid out of the truck and, leaning heavily on Karl, managed to walk to the motor sergeant’s raised counter. Jojo stood there a moment, wavered, and slid down into the floor. He leaned his forehead on Karl’s thigh. All Karl saw was a small black hat disappearing downward. When he looked down, he sighed and adjusted his leg to be more secure for Jojo to sleep against.

“Sir, your kid ok?” a different sergeant from the morning asked.

Karl didn’t look up from the form he was reviewing, nor did he dispute that Jojo was his. “He’s fine. Just tired. You didn’t molest my car did you?” 

The sergeant looked directly into Karl’s bad eye. That eye knew when you were lying. “No, sir. I did have a colonel drooling over it. How’d you get such a nice car out of Berlin?”

Satisfied, Karl signed his name. “There may have been an implication that a general was the ultimate recipient.”

The sergeant half smiled and rolled his eyes.

“Officers: can’t run the Army with them, can’t run it without them.” Karl winked at the man with his bad eye. “We’re square?”

“Yes, sir.”

Karl sighed and looked down at Jojo. “Come on, Johannes. Help me out.” He lifted Jojo to standing then picked him up. The boy couldn’t have weighed more than thirty kilos, but they were awkward, dangling kilos. “Good God, how does your mother still carry you around?” Karl managed to grab his hat and put it on before walking away carrying Jojo.

The sergeant wondered what it must be like to have to look at that scrambled yet still piercing eye every time you were naughty. Karl’s brown eye still expressed pain and disappointment, but his bad eye passed judgement.

Karl was worried when he saw there were no lights on at the Betzler house. Jojo was asleep in his lap in the front seat. “Freddie, did they say how delayed the train was?”

Freddie shook his head. “Something about a derailment. What are we going to do?”

Karl unbuttoned Jojo’s top pocket and pulled out a key. “I felt this when I was carrying him.” Karl sighed. “We can’t leave him here alone after dark. I’ll stay with him. You go on home. I’ll be there whenever Rosie gets in.” Karl handed Freddie the key. While Karl carried Jojo, Freddie opened the door. 

“Wow. Nice house,” Freddie said as Karl laid Jojo on the sofa. “She has a phone.”

Karl tried to think who wouldn’t have a phone. “Yeah. I guess her husband was doing alright for himself before he got drafted.” He remembered Paul as not wealthy, but definitely doing well even during the Depression. He’d been able to afford a fulltime housekeeper so Rosie could work, and the Betzlers never wanted for anything available.

“OK. I’ll see you whenever you get in.” 

They heard a thud, and both looked around into the living room. Jojo had rolled onto the floor. Freddie laughed, slapped Karl on the back, then left. Karl locked the door and went back to the living room. He took off Jojo’s shoes, hat, and coat, then roused the boy. “Jojo, go upstairs and go to the bathroom.”

Jojo could barely focus. “How’d I get home?”

“Freddie and I brought you home. Your mama’s late. Go to the bathroom so you don’t wet the bed.”

Jojo squinted a bit, but he was able to follow directions enough. He managed to go up the stairs and come back down. He stood aimlessly in the living room until he saw Karl sitting in an armchair with a glass of whiskey and an unbuttoned _feldbluse_. He sat himself in Karl’s lap and laid his head on Karl’s shoulder.

“You want some supper?” Karl asked. He had no idea what there was to eat in the house. 

“No.”

Karl looked at his pocket watch. 6:15. “Maybe you should go to bed? You got up really early.”

“OK.” Jojo kissed Karl’s cheek and stood up. “Good night.”

“Good night, Jojo.” He did get up and make sure Jojo went to his room. He watched the door at the end of the hallway close. Going back to the living room, he saw the empty fireplace and the gramophone. 

Rosie quietly panicked as she tried to politely say goodbye to the faculty at the train station. Many were going for drinks despite the late hour and no dinner. Rosie could only think of Jojo alone in the house and whether Elsa had run out of water. She had told Elsa to be especially careful today as she would be out of town and Jojo out of the house. Rosie had a constant low-level fear that Deertz would simply let himself in one day. The train station clock read 8:30, and Rosie walked as fast as she could the twenty minutes home. She made it in fifteen. She was relieved to see the lights were on in the living room. 

“Jojo?” Rosie called as she opened the door. She could smell the fireplace burning. “Did you build a fire. You know you aren’t supposed to do that if I’m not home.”

Karl opened his eyes. “I did it,” Karl sleepily admitted. He pulled out his pocket watch. 8:45. Two and a half hours just gone.

Rosie came to a surprised stop on her intended sweep through the house. “Karl.”

Karl stood up trying to shake off the fuzziness of an unintended nap. “Present. We brought Jojo home, and I stayed to wait for you. He’s in bed.”

Rosie went down the hall to check on her son. He was in bed in his pajamas. “Wow,” she said as she came back. “You must have worn him out.”

Karl shrugged. “He had some barley vegetable soup around four and a cup of coffee, but he didn’t want any supper when we got home. Sent him to the bathroom, and he went right to bed after.”

“Are you hungry?”

Karl thought that he was hungry. “No. I’ll get something at home.”

“Come on, Karl. Eat something with me.”

With food rationing, Karl didn’t really want to eat anything from Rosie’s house she could ill-afford. He knew he and Freddie were getting better and more rations than the average German. “Rosie, I shouldn’t.”

Rosie took Karl’s hand and pulled him into the kitchen. “Come on. What’s bread and some weak potato soup?”

“Your dinner tomorrow?” Karl answered as he was pushed into a chair. 

Rosie took the pot of soup from the refrigerator and set it on the stove to heat. “I’m going to run upstairs. Watch that?”

Karl nodded his head. He saw a rack of beers in the floor and pulled out two. He flipped open the stoppers. Beer wasn’t rationed. He wondered what Rosie was doing she was gone so long and got up to stir the soup. He tasted it and knew that Rosie hadn’t had a chicken to use for stock in a long time.

“That’s what I like to see: a man cooking.” Rosie said as she walked into her kitchen. She sat down at the table and sipped a beer.

“I’ve been a bachelor for twenty years. I know how to keep myself fed.”

Rosie’s eyebrow arched skeptically. “You didn’t even have a pot of jam when I took care of you.”

“I said I know how to keep myself fed. I didn’t say I cooked.” Karl sat down across from her. “Jojo was good today. Perfect. Very helpful.”

Rosie smiled. “That’s a relief. You’ve only got one eye left.”

“And, don’t think I wasn’t very careful of trigger discipline with all those boys.” Karl leaned his head on the wall next to the window. “What happened with the train?”

Rosie’s smile faded. “Derailment where the tracks turn near Schwandorf. A cattle train going to Flossenberg.”

Karl knew what that meant. The cars were packed with the soon to be departed. 

Rosie started picking at her cuticles. “And a lot of the cars toppled over. They were pulling those poor people out. The ones that could walk, they marched away. The injured, they shot them. Boys. Boys! Boys no older than some of our students, walking down the lines of people lying in the grass shooting them. And, other prisoners throwing the bodies into piles. We sat there for hours just listening to the sound of people crying and moaning and rifle shots. When it got dark, they brought out lanterns and kept shooting them. Finally, they got all the cars out of our way, and we pulled back onto the main track.”

Karl stretched his hand across the table and took Rosie’s hands in his. “I’m sorry you saw that.”

“I can’t….You’ve never….” Rosie had been horrified, grief-stricken, angry, and strangely embarrassed all at the same time.

Karl shook his head. “I had the reputation as a man who wouldn’t shoot civilians. But, I also had some very powerful protectors.” Karl tenderly stroked Rosie’s fingers. “I had Jewish friends at university. The first boy I fell….Anyway, he was Jewish. Blonder than you, too.”

Rosie smiled painfully. “What was his name?”

“Freddie.” Karl and Rosie both laughed. “Friedrich David Schwartzmann. Funny name for a blue eyed, blonde Jewish kid. He went away to America for medical school at Yale University. He had cousins in Boston or somewhere like that. I hope he never came back.”

Rosie sighed. “This country and all of us are going to burn in Hell for what we’ve allowed to be done.”

“Yeah,” Karl sadly agreed.

Rosie stood up and stirred her soup again. She tested it and decided it was hot enough to serve. After ladling it into bowls, she set them on the table and cut some bread. When Karl asked about the teacher’s conference, Rosie confessed that she had spent a large amount of time reading in the ladies’ washroom blaming an upset stomach. The only way to keep her job was to belong to the union however much she hated it. She left the dishes for later and sat on the sofa with Karl, leaning into him.

“Why doesn’t Jojo go to the _gymnasium_?” Karl asked as they watched the fire.

“Inge went to the Catholic girls’ _gymnasium_. It was ok. The violin teacher was better, and it was closer to the ballet school. I would have sent Jojo to the boys’, but since we got a new priest, it’s become an almost exact replica of the _staatsgymnasium_. All Party, all the time. They neglect the sciences and teach a bastardized version of history and literature. They want to do away with Latin. So, I kept him at the _realschule._ At least there I can have some effect on what and how he’s taught.”

“But, he’ll finish at sixteen. He can’t go to university without an _Abitur_[1].”

“Hopefully by then, sanity will have returned, and he can catch up somehow. If not, I’m willing to send him abroad for a few years to finish or permanently.”

Karl tightened his arms around Rosie. “Are you going to leave someday?”

“I don’t know. We should have left years ago, but Paul wouldn’t leave his mother. That Nazi-loving, old bat lived until Christmas 1939. By then, we couldn’t leave.”

“I understand thoroughly.” Karl ran his hand over her hair. “Rosie, my name was on a list.”

Rosie pushed herself up and stared at Karl, alarmed. “What list?”

“The original list for Dachau. That’s why I never contacted you again.” 

“Why?” she gasped.

“Did there have to be a reason? Mostly political activity, the editorials, and degenerate publishing choices certainly didn’t help. They may have known more. There’s nothing still linking you with me, is there?”

Rosie shrugged. “I can’t think of anything.” Nothing but every book they had ever published, years’ worth of photographs, her Catholic marriage certificate, and Inge’s baptism certificate all hidden away in the floorboards under her bed. Karl hadn’t even been a registered Socialist. Rosie wondered if he was on the Nazi’s list purely for personal retribution. “Who told you?”

“My godfather, Leo. He helped me when my mother wouldn’t.”

Rosie sighed. Leo had helped her, too, by changing her middle name and birth city on official documents and presumably replacing the copies in the archives. He’d even had her diploma from university remade. “Why? Why wouldn’t your own mother help you?”

Karl shrugged. “I don’t know. She was afraid, I suppose, and with good reason as it turns out. Siggy and Heinrich had gotten married. Siggy had a new baby. She worked damn hard to keep the family fortune and estates intact. She wasn’t going to jeopardize it all for her near-socialist, faggoty son.”

Rosie pressed her lips together. She hated it when Karl talked about himself that way. “I’m so sorry you lost everything.”

“Don’t worry,” Karl said falsely smiling. “I do still have a lot of money stashed away.”

“But, you lost your family,” she said caressing his stubbly cheek. 

Karl shrugged. Losing Rosie had been the worst pain. He felt the warmth from Rosie’s lips before they touched his. When her tongue brushed over his open lips, he opened them further and pulled her tightly to him. They half lay, half sat on the couch kissing like they once had in the Grunewald. However, in the Grunewald, they rarely pressed their bodies together so close or hard. Karl eventually pulled back. “I have to go home. Freddie knows I’m here.”

“Will you come over tomorrow?”

Karl kissed her sweetly on the lips. “Definitely.”

Rosie stood up and straightened her hair and skirt. She buttoned up Karl’s _feldbluse_ before he put on his coat.

“Are you going to be ok, Rosie?” Karl asked as he put his arms around her. “Sometimes seeing or hearing something like you did can be…upsetting.”

Rosie had her hands on Karl’s chest. “I think I’ll be fine. If not, Mr. Whiskey and I are dear friends in time of need.”

Karl hugged her. “You need me, call. We can hear the phone upstairs.”

Rosie kissed him goodbye and opened the door. “Thank you for watching Jojo, Captain Klenzendorf.”

Karl put on his hat as he surveyed the street. “Anytime. He’s a perfect little DJ, Frau Betzler. You should be proud of him. Even the Führer would think so.”

Freddie happened to be looking at the clock when Karl came in. “That was some train delay,” he said casually with a tinge of sarcasm from a club chair. He’d had three beers already and was on his fourth.

Karl hung up his coat and hoped he wouldn’t have to assuage Freddie’s jealousy with sex. He was just tired. “Yeah. Apparently, a prisoner train headed up to the KZ derailed. Rosie’s train was stuck in the siding. She got to watch them execute the injured on the side of the tracks for a couple hours.”

“Holy shit. Right there in front of a civilian train?” Freddie almost dropped his beer.

Karl shook his head. “They used to try to hide this crap. Say it was for the good of the country. They’ve totally lost it in Berlin. Lost their minds, lost control of the SS and Gestapo.” He passed in front of Freddie and stopped there, staring at him. “God, you’re a lightweight drunk.”

“Well, I was waiting for you to have dinner. And, then, I guess I just forgot.” Freddie smiled sheepishly and giggled.

Karl laughingly sighed. “OK, I’ll finish that one.” He bent down and kissed Freddie then took the beer. “I think it may be bedtime for you, though.”

Freddie stood up but instead of going to bed, he sultrily put his arms around Karl. Karl’s arm came around Freddie in case he fell, but Freddie kissed Karl as softly and romantically as he could. Karl stood there, Freddie in one hand and the beer in his other. “Freddie, I’m really tired.”

“And, I’m really drunk. You looked so…I don’t know what it was today. But every time I saw you, all I could think was how manly you seemed. Working with the boys, carrying a sleeping Jojo, even that ridiculous advice you gave them.”

“That was good advice.” Karl kissed Freddie and then again on his temple. “But, I’m tired, you’re drunk, and I need a shower. Go to bed, Freddie.” He gave Freddie a last kiss before gently pushing him in the direction of the beds and taking himself to the bathroom.

The boiler was finally in working order and fueled, and Karl closed his eyes as he stepped into the warm spray. He stood there for a few minutes just enjoying the hot water on his skin. Hands on the back of his hips sent electric shocks through him, and Karl jabbed back with his left elbow as he whirled around with his right fist. Freddie ducked, and Karl only hit the tiles.

“Karl!” Freddie said from a crouch. 

Karl looked down to see Freddie. “Oh, God. Freddie, I’m so sorry.” He extended his hand to Freddie to help him up. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, embracing him. “I didn’t know it was you.”

Freddie leaned his head on Karl’s shoulder and ran his hands over Karl’s wet hair. “I know. I know. I should have warned you.” For months now, Karl had been nervous when he was alone or when Freddie came up from the back or on his blind side. Karl kept it in check with the children, but he still wasn’t sure of anything when he was alone in silence. “I just really, really want you.”

“I can tell. You’re standing here in your underwear and socks getting soaking wet.” Karl resigned himself to sating Freddie and kissed him lavishly. They got the last of Freddie’s clothes off before Freddie soaped up a washcloth and began soaping up Karl. Karl kissed him as he was washed. Once, Freddie was on his knees, Karl used one hand to steady himself against the tile wall while the other caressed Freddie’s scalp. He pushed Freddie back. “Come here,” he told him as he sat down in the water spray, leaning against the wall. 

Freddie sat on Karl’s lap, adjusting himself so that Karl could easily enter him. They moved their hips together, and Karl firmly took Freddie’s phallus in hand. Freddie had both his hands on the wall and looked down on Karl, whose eyes were closed. Karl’s left hand ranged over Freddie’s back. Freddie felt the urge to move faster and more deliberately. Karl’s hand closed a little tighter on him. Freddie came with a satisfied moan, then felt Karl pull him close and hold him hard. Karl’s eyes flittered beneath their lids and a sigh escaped his lips. 

“How can you be so controlled?” Freddie asked after a moment. He kissed Karl’s forehead and cheeks.

Karl opened his eyes. “Freddie, the first time I had sex with a woman you weren’t even born. It’s all experience.” He guided Freddie’s lips down to his and kissed him.

[1] The leaving certificate from gymnasium and requirement for entrance to university


	2. Chapter 2

### Monday, November 6

“Heil Hitler, Captain K and congratulations. You aren’t demoted anymore. You’re on the promotion list for major.” Gerti proudly smiled at him over her typewriter.

Karl managed a smile. “Fraulein Rahm, haven’t we discussed you reading my private correspondence?”

“This wasn’t private. It was on the top of the weekly orders.” She handed him the official orders for the week. “See?”

Karl read over item one. _By order of General of Infantry Otto von Groneberg_. _At least he isn’t bent on executing me anymore,_ Karl thought. “And, that’s what a Memorandum for the Record is good for.” He smiled and winked at her with his bad eye. As he walked by Freddie, who was listening to the radio over headphones, he stopped and stared. Freddie was gyrating and reaching out with his hands as though he were hitting things 

Gerti saw Freddie and came over. “What’s he doing?” she whispered.

“Pretending to play the drums?” guessed Karl, completely mystified. 

“Must be because he’s from a big city up North.”

“They’re strange up there,” Karl agreed, but only half-heartedly. He’d loved the bustle and anonymity of a Berlin with every type of music and dancing imaginable. Königsberg had been like going to a very quiet, very proper, well-appointed prison with the most refined and educated prisoners. He liked a good conversation over good liquor and Cuban cigars as much as anyone, but he had immediately bought two _Trakehner_ horses and found riding companions. 

Freddie opened his eyes and saw Gerti and Karl staring at him. He took off the headphones and looked at them. “What?”

Gerti and Karl shook their heads and walked in opposite directions.


	3. Chapter 3

### Tuesday, November 7

Before heading to his now regular Tuesday meeting with Rosie, Karl stopped by the library to return the anatomy book he had borrowed. He walked in the cold building that still smelled faintly of beeswax and old glue and saw no one at the big desk where Herr Thaller ruled over his small but beloved kingdom. Karl set the book on the wide desk and turned to leave when he heard the soft crash of books. He hastily found the scene and Herr Thaller. The elderly man had slipped off a ladder.

“Herr Thaller? Are you alright?” Karl knelt down and helped the man sit up.

Herr Thaller squinted at Karl. “My glasses. Do you see them?”

Karl looked around the scattering of books and folios which had lost their pages. “Yes. Here they are. What are you doing crawling up and down these ladders at your age?” he asked as he handed back the glasses.

“You see any young men around this town, Captain?”

Karl hung his head. “Here. Let me help you.”

Together they began stacking the books and gathering up the pages. Karl picked up a few papers together and turned them over. He looked down at some old handbill posters he recognized. Slowly, he looked at each page. The posters screamed, even when their subjects were silent. _Brot!, Gefallen, Die Uberlebenden. **[1]**_ Karl finally looked up at a terrified Herr Thaller. On his best days the librarian was perpetually surprised. Right then, his thin lips hung slightly ajar, and a wild fear widened his grey eyes. Karl saw the old man’s pale face go ashen.

“You should take care of these,” Karl said, neatening the stack, placing them in a folio with other Kollwitz posters and prints, then tying the ribbon. “She’s not going to live forever, you know. I don’t think there is any other German artist who has so ferociously forced us to look at the want and pain in our own country when so many of us embraced a glittering frenzy in order to escape it.”

Herr Thaller silently picked up the folio with his shaking hands. “You’re familiar with Kollwitz?”

Karl nodded. “If she wasn’t an anti-war communist, she might even be celebrated by the current zeitgeist. They certainly appropriate her work when they want to.[2] She makes even the most hateful nearly cry.”

Staring at Karl still stacking up books, Herr Thaller didn’t know whether to hug him or run to the basement and throw this treasured folio into the furnace. He moved the folio around the tops of library shelves, hiding it under dusty, oversized books. 

Karl could tell Herr Thaller was still terrified. “I’m not some thick-skulled cretin who sings the _Horst-Wessel-Lied_ in my sleep, Herr Thaller. I may not like it, but I know good art when I see it, read it, and hear it. Kollwitz is transcendent. Can I hand the books up to you, or were you taking them down?”

Thaller nodded. “If you could hand them up.” The librarian reclimbed the ladder and took the books Karl handed him one at a time. When he was finished, he slid the folio between several and climbed back down. “Thank you, Captain.”

Karl smiled. “The children really enjoyed the anatomy book,” he said, following Herr Thaller back to the front of the library. “Especially, the surgical plates. Morbid little creatures.”

Herr Thaller nodded knowingly. “Every few months I find a group of young boys clustered around the gynecological texts.”

Karl almost laughed. “I would be familiar with such a preoccupation. My best friend in _gymnasium_ had an uncle who was a doctor. We perused his books very carefully.”

Thaller picked up the book Karl returned and set it on a cart for reshelving. “ _Gymnasium_?”

“Is that so surprising?”

Thaller shrugged. “I haven’t met many officers. I thought you were all sent away to cadet schools as little boys.” He looked over Karl again. The scrambled eye tended to draw the most attention, however as Thaller’s eyes eased over Karl’s decorations he noticed something else. “Captain, you seem to have a paperclip[3] stuck to your shirt.”

Karl looked down. “Do I? Hmm. Being blind in one eye, I miss some details.” He clumsily patted around his uniform until he felt the paperclip on the placket. “I half expect some auditor from Berlin to show up and demand I account for every one of these. Well, waste not want not. I’ll make sure it gets back into the desk drawer. And, speaking of waste, should you have any older, suitable books, I’m always looking for things to fill the bookcases at the _Jugend_ building.”

“Really?” Thaller asked genuinely. Herr Wesser only liked burning books, and most of the children stayed out of the library. 

“Really. So, if you have anything that needs a new home….”

“Wesser preferred to burn books.”

“Don’t you think in a country with a paper shortage, it’s more useful to pulp offensive books than burn them? You can rest assured that you’ve seen the last book burning for the kids while I’m around.”

Thaller barely smiled. “Well, if I find anything, I’ll send it over.”

Outside, the nearby church bells rang the half hour. Karl pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open. “I have to be going. If I don’t get to the school before dismissal, I’ll have to Heil every child who walks out the gate.”

“Business at the school?”

“Yes, meeting with Frau Betzler.”

“Could you ask if she made any pear-apple jam this fall? Frau Thaller thinks the world of it.”

Karl nodded. “Of course. Have a good day, Herr Thaller.”

“Heil Hitler,” Thaller said almost timidly.

Karl sighed. He had hoped Thaller would let him go without that. “Heil Hitler.”

Rosie stood on the front steps of the school at 2:56 pm, holding her crop behind her back, waiting for the dismissal bell, and enjoying the clear, blue sky of a sunny November day. She heard boots running and watched Karl dash into the courtyard. He had his ledger book under his arm and his coat tails flying. He took the steps two at a time.

“I know. I know. I’m late,” he huffed as he ran into the building, yanking off his hat.

Rosie bent around the propped open door and watched him slide on the tile floor as he took the turn to the office. She smiled and shook her head then followed him. Karl was hanging up his coat when she reached her office. She was still smiling as she fondly remembered the last time they had been late coming back to school. She walked in completely without care past a glaring Sister Karolina while Karl had unsuccessfully tried to beat the bell. It had been a beautiful day in June 1917, and they had made out in her father’s study after _mittagessen_ instead of using his atlases like they told the housekeeper.

Karl sat down in the chair he always sat in and watched Rosie take her seat. “I was just at the library, and Herr Thaller’s wife wants to know if you made any pear-apple jam this fall.”

Rosie opened her attendance book. “I’ll have to check.”

Karl thought that was odd. “You don’t remember if you made jam?”

“I’ll have to check if I have any to spare. People love my jam.”

“Since when have you made jam?” he asked pulling out his pen. 

Rosie half laughed. “You move to the countryside, and you have to find new hobbies. I understand you did quite a bit of fishing this fall.”

“Season isn’t done until the water freezes. Or, I do.”

“And, on Sunday you were out shooting rabbits on the Morgensterns’ farm?”

Karl’s eyebrow arched. _How the hell did she know that?_ “Are there no secrets in this town?”

“Oh, you’d be amazed,” Rosie said with a knowing smile. “Absolutely astounded.”

[1] _Bread!, Killed in Action,_ and _The Survivors_ are some of Kathë Kollwitz’s most famous works. Her art was declared degenerate by the Nazi Party but later rehabilitated. One of her most moving pieces is the bronze “Mother with Her Dead Son,” a pieta, displayed in the Neue Wache in Berlin. <https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mother_with_her_Dead_Son_01.jpg> (Beko, 2016)

[2] Kollwitz’s _Brot!_ and _Hunger_ were both used in Nazi propaganda without her permission.

[3] The paperclip as a symbol of resistance to Nazi rule was limited to Norway, and once the Nazis caught on, wearing one became illegal. Resistance to Nazi rule was extremely limited within Germany proper.


	4. Chapter 4

### Friday, November 10

“Captain K! Look, I got a letter!”

Karl turned around from the file cabinet. “Anna! That’s wonderful. It’s always nice to get a letter.”

Anna was smiling as broadly and brightly as she could. She had the crinkly paper in her hand. “It’s from my papa.”

Karl tried to smile, but he hoped to God that it wasn’t a letter than had been stuck in a mail sack for six months. “Really?”

“Yes!” she nodded, her blonde hair flying around. “He got rescued and is in Ee-oohh-va.”

Karl smiled down with a slightly confused look. “Where?”

Anna held up the envelope. “Ee-oohh-va.”

Karl steadied the paper. “Oh, Iowa,” he said pronouncing the state correctly.

“What?”

“In English the doppel-vey says _wah_. We don’t have that sound in German.”

Anna looked with brow crinkling confusion at the letter. “But, he said the Americans speak German.”

“Well, yeah. Lots of Germans went to America a hundred years ago, but I suppose many of them also speak English now. The German they speak isn’t the same as ours anymore.”

“What does I-oh-wah mean?”

Karl stared at the crown molding and took a moment to remember. It had been a long time since university. “It’s the name of an Indian tribe.”

“Is my father living in a teepee with Red Indians?” Anna asked somewhere between alarm and excitement.

Karl laughed. “I don’t think so. He’s probably at a place like an army camp.”

Anna was looking at her father’s handwriting. “Where is I-oh-wah?”

Karl closed the file drawer. “Let’s go look in the atlas.” He and Anna walked across the hall to the classroom with bookshelves, and Karl opened the big atlas on a table. He checked the date. It was from 1925. “So, here’s the world. Can you find the German Reich?”

Anna looked over the world map. “Why are there all these little countries were the Reich should be?”

“It’s an old atlas. They have since been included,” Karl hastily said. “So, Bavaria is here. And the United States is here.” He put his two fingers on each spot then turned to a map of North America. “And, Iowa is right here in the middle of the United States.”

Anna looked at the map of the United States. “What are all these little countries?”

Karl sighed. “Those aren’t countries. This whole big thing,” he drew his finger around the continental US. “It’s all America. These are the states. We have lander. They have states.”

Anna eyes were huge and confused. “It’s as big as the Reich.”

“It is.”

“But, they have the British and the Russians, too.” She turned the atlas back to the world map. “Britain’s not big.”

“Britain also has India and Australia. Those colonies are fighting the Japanese. The Canadians up here over the US, they’re in France with the British.”

Anna wiped a tear from her eye as she realized how much of the world was arrayed against Germany. “Are they going to let my papa come home?”

Karl put his hand on her thin back. He could feel her spine. “When a war is over, the two sides exchange prisoners. He’ll get to come home. Anna, what have you had to eat today?”

“We had bread and jam for breakfast. And potatoes for _mittagessen_.”

“And what about supper?” Karl was looking at her more critically. Her hair was dry and her skin a little loose. 

Anna shrugged. “Mama said she was going to try to buy onions and eggs. But, tomorrow, we’re going mushroom hunting.”

Karl tried to smile. Mushroom season had been over for a month. Anna was beginning to look malnourished. “That sounds fun.”

Anna skipped away to get a piece of paper from Gerti to write a letter to her father. Writing paper was getting expensive, and Karl told the children they could have one piece a week to write letters to family away in the Wehrmacht. Magda stamped the envelopes with the HJ franking stamp. He figured this was the least he could do for civilian and military moral and have the Reich pay for it. Karl wandered back to his office and looked through the manuals to find the nutritional standards for civilian populations. “Sergeant Finkle,” he summoned.

Freddie was glad to disengage from several boys practicing knots. “Sir?”

“Who do you know in supply?” Karl asked as he made a long list.

Freddie sat at their dining table after supper with a tablet and a pencil. Karl couldn’t really cook beyond frying things, but Karl did like to keep records. Freddie supposed that was because Karl was really a Prussian, and Prussians loved records. Freddie, however, had often helped his mother in the kitchen and even prepared full meals when his father was too ill to work in the shop and his mother didn’t have time. Freddie knew how to make soup. He was glad the Army never found out or he would have been a cook the entire war. After averaging the number of children in the building every day, Freddie concluded they needed to feed forty to fifty children a day. At 250 milligrams of soup per child, that was thirteen liters of soup a day, minimum. Freddie kept figuring the ingredients over a week, and his eyebrows crept toward his hairline. He’d never been in charge of provisioning.

“Well?” Karl asked as he paused by Freddie.

“It’s doable.”

“How doable?” Karl pulled out his cigarette case. He was very careful with it these days since he couldn’t bear to remove Rosie’s photo.

Freddie shrugged. “We need a few more pots. We have no extra mugs or spoons. Meat is going to be iffy. Dishwashing a downright bitch.”

“I’ll shoot every damn rabbit up here,” Karl said lighting a cigarette. He had also begun to track deer and a what he thought might be a drove of boar.

“We need fat. Rabbits are pretty lean.”

“So, we need a rendered pig?”

“Yep. And, herbs.”

“Why do we need herbs?”

Freddie could barely believe Karl asked this. How could he enjoy good food and not know what made it taste good? “For taste.”

“I don’t care how it tastes. I just want to get some food in these kids.”

Freddie took a deep breath. “If it doesn’t taste good, they won’t eat it. Trust me. I have five sisters. And, then there’s bread. There’s no way we can get enough bread.”

“What about flour and eggs?”

Freddie shook his head. “I can’t bake, Karl. The Apfelmanns’ had a bakery across the street.”

“We make spätzle,” Karl decided offhand. 

Freddie was doubtful. “Can you make spätzle?”

“I made it with my grandmother’s cook. You just squeeze the dough through a press.” Freddie smiled. It was a fake smile. Karl knew when Freddie was humoring him. “Oh, come on, Finkie. Ten to one if we screw it up, one of the older girls will shove us out of the way and take charge.”

Freddie was still fake smiling.


	5. Chapter 5

### Thursday, November 23

Jojo loved being in the Jugend office with Karl, Freddie, and Gerti. He had even grown to like Magda and a few of the other kids who came regularly. He didn’t like being around the older boys. They perpetually teased him, and he still heard them call him _Rabbit_. But, Jojo did like playing with Karl’s toy soldiers. He and some of the younger boys and girls would hang around the edges of the tables where the older boys were practicing for Karl’s strategy game tournament. Freddie supervised the room from a far, only intervening when he heard raised voices. 

“Move, Rabbit,” Mattias snapped as he elbowed Jojo and Yorkie from the edge of the table where Mattias’ team had set up their map and soldiers. 

Jojo frowned more at being called Rabbit and less about the elbow in his chest.

“Shouldn’t you guys leave someone behind you in case the other side sweeps around?” Yorkie asked.

Arne glowered at Yorkie. “How old are you? Ten?”

“Eleven.”

Arne ignored Yorkie. “So, Rabbit, heard from your father yet?”

Jojo blushed. “No. He’s in Italy.”

Arne and Mattias laughed. “Yeah, and he’s probably hiding out there, so he doesn’t have to get whipped every time he begs your mother for some pussy,” Mattias laughed.

“Herr Betzler, pussy whipped!” Arne laughed at Jojo

“Do you think she uses a big whip or a little one to whip him while he begs for some pussy?” Mattias asked.

Jojo gritted his teeth.

“Jojo, are you alright?” Yorkie asked as he saw his friend’s face go stiff and red.

Jojo ran at the older boys and grabbed Mattias around the waist, shoving him down and knocking the table askew. They crashed loudly into some chairs. On the floor, Jojo began ineffectually punching the boy. “Don’t talk about my mother and father like that!”

Karl and Freddie ran into the room when they heard the commotion. Karl dragged Jojo off Mattias. “What’s going on in here!” Karl thundered. He looked at Jojo, red faced and crying, and Mattias, laying on the floor with blood trickling over his lip. Freddie pulled up Mattias and checked his nose. None of the children moved or said a word. Karl looked down at Jojo. “You! In my office. NOW!”

Jojo could barely stand to look up. “Mattias—” Jojo’s voice trembled as he tried to speak.

“You had a chance to explain this. Now, get in my office!” 

Freddie took Jojo by the arm. “C’mon, Jojo.”

Mattias wiped his face with his handkerchief. The blood was from a small cut on his smirking lip.

Karl looked around. “For the last time, what happened, or I am going to punish everyone in this room.”

Sissi, a small eleven year old girl with thick brown braids, took Karl’s hand and stood on tiptoe to whisper to him. Karl leaned down, though his eyes flicked up to Mattias and Arne. “Thank you, Sissi.”

“Should I wash my mouth out with soap since I said a bad word?”

Karl shook his head. “I think telling the truth is cleansing enough. You two, stay.” Karl pointed to Mattias and Arne. “Everyone else, clean up and go home.”

Mattias and Arne awkwardly stood there while the other children cleaned up the room, and Karl stared at the two boys with his arms crossed. Karl waited until the other children had left. He didn’t know that they were hanging out on the steps to listen.

“You do not EVER use that language around children or ladies or talk about someone’s mother or the headmistress that way! Do I make myself clear?”

Mattias and Arne both mumbled that they understood. 

Karl knew he had to do something drastic or the teasing of Jojo would get worse and probably spread to the younger boys. “Your shoulder boards, give them to me.”

Arne stared, aghast. “Our ranks.”

“Yes, your ranks.” Karl snapped a few times. “Now!”

Both boys reluctantly took off their patrol leader epaulettes and handed them to Karl.

“Now, go get the mops and buckets, and starting on the third floor, mop all the way to the basement.”

Mattias stared agape. “But, that’s the job the little kids do!” he protested.

Karl held up the ranks. “Well, guess what? You’re little kids now. Do it or stay home until St Nicholas’ Day.”

Arne pouted. “Will we get our ranks back?”

“When you’ve earned them and learned that the way to lead men or boys is not by teasing and humiliating them. Saying something like that about a boy’s mother. You’re lucky the kid’s never taken boxing lessons.” Karl shoved the shoulder boards and his hands in his pockets. “Well?”

Dispirited but unwilling to stay home for two weeks, Arne and Mattias slowly walked out of the room and headed to the basement cleaning closet. Karl heard the sudden flurry of footsteps running down the stairs and shook his head. At least some of the kids knew there had been some form of punishment. Now he had to deal with Jojo. Walking by Gerti’s desk, Karl saw Jojo sitting in a chair in front of his own desk. 

“Fraulein Rahm, call Frau Betzler and ask her to come pick up Jojo.”

Gerti grimaced. “Yes, Captain K.”

Karl proceeded to his office, only to be stopped by Freddie. 

“Sir, I should have—”

Karl waved it off. “They shouldn’t need an adult standing over them making sure they behave every second of the day. What do I do with Jojo?”

Freddie wanted to point out that Karl couldn’t show any favoritism, but Jojo had been provoked. “Water under the bridge?”

Sighing, Karl continued to his desk. He sat down heavily in his fancy chair. “Well?” he asked Jojo.

Jojo shifted around in the chair. He was very small and spoke in a soft, embarrassed voice. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t hit people. I promise I won’t do it again.”

Karl nodded. “Good.”

“They were saying nasty things about my mother.”

Karl kept nodding. “Yeah, but you can’t go around hitting people, even the ones who say nasty things about your mother. Especially if you can’t throw a punch.”

Rosie gave Gerti a perfunctory Heil as she walked into the office. Her eyes were straight ahead of her, where she saw Karl demonstrating a left jab-left jab-right cross combination. Jojo was copying him, and then Karl stood in front of Jojo and stiffly held out his hands, giving the boy a target. As Jojo jabbed, Rosie said loudly and disapprovingly, “Johannes Jozef Betzler!”

Jojo immediately dropped his fists and turned toward his mother. He froze in place, like a rabbit. Rosie seemed to fly over the red carpet. “Mama.”

Rosie looked from Jojo to Karl. “You,” she snapped her fingers at Jojo. “Sit.” She pointed behind her at chair next to Gerti’s desk. Jojo slunk out of Karl’s office. “Captain Klenzendorf.”

“Frau Betzler. Those are lovely earrings. They really complement that sweater.” Karl smiled at her. He couldn’t tell if she was actually mad or just acting.

“Peridots from Herr Betzler. Were you just showing my son how to throw a punch?”

Karl took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, someone had to.”

Rosie turned around and slammed closed the wooden pocket doors. “Who—”

“The boy’s _Jugend_ leader. Tell me Paul wouldn’t have shown the kid how to throw a punch by now.” Karl dismissively turned back to his desk and sat down. 

Rosie smacked her purse on the desk. “I’m trying my best to bring him up non-violently,” she said through clenched teeth.

Karl took out his whiskey and poured two glasses. “Rosie von Bischoffen, the terror of St Benedict’s, bringing up her kid without teaching him how to punch?” he asked sarcastically.

Rosie took the glass of whiskey Karl offered her. “I saw the error of my ways,” she said sharply before she knocked back the drink and set the glass firmly on the desk. “Now, who did he get in a fight with and why?”

“It happened here, so I dealt with it. No need to get the school involved. And, defending your honor.”

Rosie sat on the corner of Karl’s desk, her feet swinging languidly near his knee. “Defending my honor?”

Karl nodded as he finished his whiskey. “There was a comment about whips and cats.”

Rosie was perplexed. “Whips and cats? What’s that….Oh!” Her sapphire eyes were huge. “He doesn’t know the meaning of that word!”

Karl was softly laughing. Mothers were always the last to know. “He most certainly does.”

“Oh, good Lord.” Rosie crossed her arms and legs. “Next you’ll be telling me you’ve found smutty post cards.”

Karl sighed. “If only. You know those are as illegal as unregistered radios.”

Rosie took a deep breath. Pornography had always been illegal. It had just never gotten the average possessor thrown in a camp. “I know.”

Karl rubbed her knee in her black tweed pants. “He needs to be able to defend himself and ward off bullies. Pacifism never got anyone anywhere in a school yard except bullied more.” He looked up at her. “Don’t punish him. He feels badly enough.”

Rosie set her hand on Karl’s. “Are you coming over tonight?” she asked in a whisper.

“Depends. Are you getting out the whips?” he teased.

“I don’t have time to oil everything this evening.” Rosie smacked his hand, but she smiled. She hopped off the desk, grabbed her purse, and opened the doors. Stepping into the outer office, she looked over at Freddie and paused. “If only I was twenty-three again,” she mused. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Jojo tilted his head back and groaned at his mother. She was so embarrassing sometimes.

Freddie nervously smiled. He didn’t know why she always flirted with him. She was married and nowhere near his age. “There are worse fates, Frau Betzler.”

Rosie winked at him. “Ok, Schmeling Junior, let’s go home and find your Papa’s old boxing gloves.”

Jojo stood up from the chair. “But, who’s going to show me how to punch?” he asked as they walked out of the office holding hands.

“I am,” Rosie said as they started down the steps, and their conversation grew fainter.

“You? You’re a girl.”

“I beat up Willie Muhlfeld twice in one day when I was thirteen. Busted his lip and everything.” The front doors banged shut behind them.

Freddie was shaking his head. “That kid needs a father at home.”

With no children in the office, Karl lit a cigarette. “They all need fathers at home, Finkie.”


	6. Chapter 6

###  Thursday, November 30

Freddie slammed the frying pan onto the stove. He threw the cold lard in so hard it bounced out, and he had to throw it in again. Karl sat at the table reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. “Why are you mad?” he asked casually when he heard the refrigerator door slammed shut. Freddie was frying rabbit parts he’d been soaking in buttermilk. So, as not to waste the buttermilk, he was going to make gravy with it. 

“I’m not mad.” Freddie considered himself irritated. This had been going on for nearly two months. It was Thursday night, and Karl always left late on Sunday and Thursday nights to spend the night with Her after he, Freddie, had cooked his, Karl’s, dinner. “What do you think I do on Thursday and Sunday nights?” he asked in a brittle and angry voice.

“I think you do the dishes, sweep the floor, clean the bathroom, starch and iron my shirts, mend clothes, and change the sheets.” Karl looked up from the paper. He watched as Freddie chopped a potato in half with the cleaver.

Freddie was furious and trying not to cry. He wasn’t surprised that Karl knew exactly what he did.

“You should go out on Friday and Saturday nights with people more your own age. Maybe date a girl.”

Freddie whirled around with the cleaver in his hand. “I DO NOT WANT TO FUCK A GIRL!”

Karl jumped up from the table. “Put that cleaver in the drawer! NOW!”

Shocked at being the target of Karl’s anger, Freddie did as he was ordered. He backed up against the wooden kitchen dresser afraid of what Karl might do. He’d seen Captain Klenzendorf angry, and it was terrifying. He yelled, cursed, threatened, threw things, smacked, punched, and occasionally pulled out his pistol. Freddie once saw him repeatedly punch and threaten to shoot a Waffen-SS sergeant who tried to commandeer the company’s only staff car.

Now Freddie watched Karl advance on him, and he looked away, afraid of that furious one-eyed scowl. Karl stopped immediately in front of Freddie. Freddie tried not to tremble. Karl grabbed Freddie with both hands and suddenly kissed him as forcefully as he could. Freddie parted his lips, and Karl’s tongue darted into his mouth. Whenever Karl’s tongue touched Freddie’s upper palate, it sent a shiver down his back. Karl finally drew back. He leaned his forehead against Freddie’s and kissed him softly.

“Now, cook the damn rabbit, hmm?” Karl returned to the table and resumed reading the paper.

“Yes, sir,” Freddie whispered. He returned to cooking dinner and served it quietly. Karl folded his paper and poured them both a glass of wine. 

“I don’t appreciate you enough, Finkie,” Karl said as he dragged his rabbit through some gravy. 

Freddie looked up from his dinner. “Thank you.”

Karl smiled affectionately. “You’ve done a good job taking care of me.”

Freddie just nodded. They finished dinner in silence, and Freddie naturally cleaned up by himself. It wasn’t Karl’s job as an officer to wash dishes. Once the last dish was in the rack, Freddie picked up the broom, but Karl took it out of his hands. Momentarily, Freddie thought Karl might sweep, but instead Karl turned on the radio and stood in front of Freddie. “It’s time you learned to dance properly.”

Freddie’s eyebrow inched up. “Dance properly?”

“Waltz, Freddie. Every gentleman should know how to waltz. Now, I hold your hand here, and you put that hand on my shoulder there. So, I am going to lead, then we’ll switch. When I move my right foot, you move your left, and vice versa. OK?”

Freddie was embarrassed, even though no one could see them. “OK,” he said unsurely.

“It’s not that hard if we start slow.” Karl gently instructed Freddie in a simple waltz box step first as the following partner and then leading. After an hour, Karl and Freddie could dance around the room at a respectable pace, with side steps and reverses. Karl tried to speed up the dance, but Freddie couldn’t follow along, and they ended up with tangled feet and falling onto the Karl’s bed. “That wasn’t so bad, was it, Finkie?” Karl laughed.

“No. I thought only rich people waltzed.” Freddie felt a bit winded.

“According to my grandmother, in the 1870’s everyone waltzed.” Karl let his hand fall into Freddie’s damp hair. “You have such pretty hair.”

Freddie blushed. “It’s just hair.”

Karl turned onto his side. “It’s a pretty gold color.” Karl kissed Freddie’s cheek then nuzzled his neck. He easily unbuttoned Freddie’s shirt and slipped his hand under Freddie’s tank top as he kissed down Freddie’s neck to his chest. The hair on Freddie’s stomach was fine and silky. Freddie gently pulled Karl’s lips back to his own and began to undress Karl and himself. Eventually, Freddie came to Karl’s boots, he slipped down in the floor and pulled off each boot, setting them at the foot of the bed. He looked up at Karl’s mismatched eyes as he pulled Karl’s trousers and long johns into the floor. Freddie bent his head to Karl’s lap, and Karl leaned back. He caressed Freddie’s soft blonde hair as Freddie’s tongue worked to increase Karl’s stiffness. 

When Karl felt ready, he pushed Freddie’s mouth away from him. He looked down at Freddie’s expectant eyes. Karl stood up and knelt down behind Freddie as Freddie laid his chest on the across the bed. Karl kissed his way down Freddie’s back to his hips. He reached for the small jar of mineral oil and swirled it around Freddie’s sphincter and then slightly inside. Freddie moaned as Karl entered him. Karl leaned forward as he thrust slowly, then more quickly. 

“Don’t come,” Karl whispered breathlessly. 

“I need to,” Freddie panted as he stroked himself.

“Don’t.” And, Karl reached around and pushed Freddie’s hand away. Instead, Karl gently pinched down on the tip of Freddie’s phallus. Freddie whimpered, but Karl went faster and deeper. “Don’t,” Karl said again, as he felt himself in need. “Just wait.”

“Please, let me.” Freddie was desperate, but Karl’s hand on his penis was preventing him. He heard Karl gasp and strain. 

Karl caught his breath and quickly withdrew. He glanced down at his own member and used Freddie’s underwear to quickly clean what little was on him. “Get on your back.” Freddie did as he was told and was about to tell Karl how much his balls ached, when Karl pushed Freddie’s legs apart and fell to fellating him. Freddie smiled in relief. Then he felt Karl’s finger slide into him. 

“What are you doing?” Freddie asked with alarm.

Karl released Freddie for just a moment. “Lay back and enjoy it.” Karl worked his way from the tip to the root of Freddie’s phallus, eventually taking the whole organ in his mouth. His finger found Freddie’s prostate, and Freddie groaned in pleasure the first time Karl pressed it with a gentle circling finger. Karl gently worked Freddie’s penis with his mouth and tongue, his balls with one hand, and his prostate with a finger on the other. 

Freddie was writhing in ecstatic agony. Karl knew how to play with a man’s orgasm and kept Freddie on the edge, until he was certain Freddie could barely stand it. He gave an extra bit of pressure to the prostate and sucked hard at Freddie’s cock. Freddie grabbed Karl by the back of his head and held him as close to his body as possible, getting his shaft as far into Karl’s throat as possible. Karl almost choked as his mouth and throat were flooded. Karl never spit after he performed fellatio on another man as he never let another man back away from his orgasm. 

Getting Freddie as clean as possible, Karl eased Freddie’s deflating erection out of his mouth. He kissed Freddie’s quivering belly, scratching his cheeks on the soft skin. Freddie was laying on the bed breathing shallowly. Karl sat up and kissed Freddie’s lips. “Are you alright?”

Freddie took a deep breath. “What was that?”

“I really need an anatomy book to explain it.” Karl stretched out on his side and put his arm around Freddie. As he gazed at the exhausted man lying next to him, Karl thought about all the men he’d loved best. They’d all been blondes, even General Krieger was a graying blonde. They’d all been thin and sculpted, neither overly muscled nor scrawny. Freddie fell solidly in the middle of the pack. Freddie had also lasted the longest. When Karl tried to count the number of men and women he’d slept with, he realized Rosie was right; he was an irredeemably promiscuous slut. And, he’d enjoyed every minute of it without ever wondering if he’d fathered a child, destroyed a marriage, or broken a heart. Rosie was the only regret he had at all in the wide swath of his sex life.

Freddie turned over and pulled Karl’s arm more securely around him. He loved the feeling of spooning with Karl. His commander was really the only man he’d ever had a long relationship with. Most of his other, deeper friendships had been cut short by bullets or bombs. Sex was furtive and secretive lest someone find out, and they be shipped off to Dachau or an even worse camp. Freddie was in awe of Karl. He wasn’t completely open about his sexuality, but it was a barely concealed secret. Maybe Karl’s appreciation of women really did give him enough plausibility that any homosexual behavior could be brushed away as boys being boys when no women were around. Of course, Karl was an officer, too. Freddie was readily aware that there were two types of military justice: one for officers, especially connected ones, and one for enlisted. 

Recently, Freddie caught himself daydreaming about the houses he walked past full of families. He wondered what it would be like to live in a house with Karl and not worry about anyone or anything, to just have a normal life like his parents. But, that was a silly fantasy. Karl liked variety and danger. He would cheat on whomever he settled down with, woman or man. He would even cheat on his lovers with other lovers. 

“When the war is over, what are you going to do?” Freddie asked in the still dark. 

Karl hated this question, too. “I don’t know. Well, I do know. I’m going back to Berlin. There’s no point in living in Germany if you don’t live in Berlin.”

Freddie sighed. “I guess Dortmund is pretty small potatoes compared to Berlin.”

Karl nuzzled the back of Freddie’s neck. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to Dortmund.”

Freddie didn’t say anything else. It was silly thinking a man like Karl would want to move to Dortmund and run a flower shop or a produce brokerage.

Karl could sense Freddie’s disappointment. “But, you said you wanted to explore the Amazon. I’d like to go to the Amazon.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not? It could be exciting. Wild beasts, giant snakes, colorful birds, exotic flowers and butterflies. You can explore, and I can keep all the guns loaded.”

Freddie laughed. He barely dared to say anything that might break this perfect moment. He kissed Karl’s forearm holding him across the chest. Karl lay spooned with Freddie waiting for him to fall asleep. He heard the church bells ring ten and eased his arm from Freddie’s hold. Freddie was asleep on Karl’s bed, so Karl just pulled Freddie’s blankets over from the other bed. He’d be warm enough, Karl hoped. Karl redressed and left. He walked as quickly as possible to the Betzlers’. The back door opened the moment Karl stood on the back stoop. 

“You’re late,” Rosie hissed in worried anger.

“It was a long day,” Karl whispered back. He felt her hand on his face as she came near to kiss him. And she stopped.

“Who have you been fucking?”

“Rosie—” Karl said in exasperation.

“Either get upstairs or hope you can run home in time to beat curfew,” she snapped at him.

Karl walked toward the stairs and heard her lock the door. He didn’t stop to hang up his coat or hat. Upstairs in her room, Rosie closed the door behind them.

“How dare you come over here smelling like someone else you’ve fucked.”

Karl tiredly took off his hat and dropped it on the desk. “Rosie.”

“Go take a bath, and not one that uses all my hot water,” she ordered him. “Or go sleep on the couch.”

Karl knew he was in for a long night. “I will take a bath,” he said meekly. He ran the bath and only sat long enough to get warm. After he washed, he noticed that Rosie hadn’t come for his clothes as usual. He dried off with a towel and wrapped it around his hips. He took his clothes back to Rosie’s room and promptly wondered if he should have just slept on the couch. Rosie wore a black leather and satin corset that barely came up to her breasts. She had on a pair of patent leather riding boots and held a crop in her hand, which she impatiently smacked against her calf.

“Madame Gisella,” Karl whispered. His hands began to tremble, and he felt his stomach flood with the same nauseating cold he’d felt upon hearing Krieger’s voice on the phone. He tried to take a deep breath, but it escaped him. His mouth turned sour. He dropped his clothes and ran back to the bathroom. Rosie stared in confusion until she heard retching. She grabbed her robe, letting it swirl down on her arms as she followed Karl. He was clutching the toilet as he vomited then resting his forehead on his crossed arms.

“Karl?” Rosie knelt next to him. She put her hands on his scarred back, and he jumped. Rosie covered her trembling lips with her hand. She knew the feeling of fearing to be touched. Something terrible had happened to Karl.

Karl was panting trying not to vomit again. “I can’t,” he struggled to say. He was so ashamed he wouldn’t even open his eyes. Another wave of nausea hit him, and he vomited again. He began crying from the force of his body trying to rid itself of something. Memories, however, couldn’t be expelled so forcefully.

Rosie heard Karl begin to sob. “I’ll be right back, _liebling_.” When the bathroom had been installed, a linen closet was also. Rosie took clean towels from there and went into her room. She took off her boots and unfastened the corset. All of it was left lying on the floor. She pulled out the softest pair of Paul’s pajamas. As she turned to leave, she saw the key to Inge’s room on the desk. Elsa had promised to never ever leave the hiding place without Rosie. But, tonight, there might be a lot of noise. Reluctantly, Rosie picked up the key and used it to lock Inge’s door. She dropped the key in her bathrobe pocket and went back to Karl.

In the bathroom Karl clung to the porcelain toilet. He was afraid of the look Rosie might give him. He could explain this as no more than bad food. Everyone vomited. A cold cloth settled on the back of his neck, and he became aware that Rosie was in the bathroom with him. 

“Karl, can you sit back?”

Reluctantly, Karl let go. Rosie helped him sit back and propped him up on the bathtub. The cold cloth fell into the tub, and Karl finally opened his eyes. Rosie had another cloth in her hand. She was dabbing at his mouth and matter of factly flushed the toilet. Karl let himself relax. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok,” she gently reassured him. “It’s ok.” She rinsed out that cloth and reached for the cloth in the tub. Unfolding it, she wiped Karl’s face and neck. His eyes begged her. He wanted to say something. “Karl, are you alright?”

Karl knew he wasn’t alright, but Rosie didn’t need his burdens as well as her own. “I’m feeling better. I can get myself straightened up. You don’t need to stay in here.”

Rosie was skeptical. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in there in a few minutes.”

Against her better judgement, Rosie nodded. Karl wasn’t an invalid. Maybe he really did just have an upset stomach. “Alright.” She kissed his cheek and left him. In her bedroom, she cleaned up what she thought would be a pleasant surprise for Karl. He had liked to play that kind of game when they were young, once she had quit the business. Perhaps, she thought, too many years in an austere and brutal environment dulled the allure. He didn’t need danger; he craved comfort. She turned to Karl’s clothes dropped in the floor. When she picked up his shirt, she snapped it to get the wrinkles out. It had a satisfying snap, so she snapped it again. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers. It was nearly as nice as her good tablecloths. 

Karl vigorously swished out his mouth with water and toothpowder. He looked in the mirror for a few minutes. His eyes were red, but he didn’t look distraught. He wished he could leave a toothbrush and razor here. Using Paul’s felt like rubbing salt in a wound, even if Paul was dead, which no one knew if he was or not. The Reich was still sending his paycheck? Karl shook his head. Someone somewhere had created a nasty predicament for an adjutant, and everyone kept shoving it under the rug, leaving Rosie and Jojo at loose ends.

He pulled on Paul’s pajama pants and then tried to make the bathroom look just as ordinary as when he’d come in to take a bath. There were too many damp towels around though. He hoped Jojo was a bleary eyed boy in the morning. Karl turned off the lights and walked into Rosie’s bedroom. She was perfecting her lipstick in the mirror. She caught his reflection in the mirror and smiled at him. Karl stood behind her and gently rubbed his hands over the back of her hips. She had on yet another silk gown. This one was pink with black fringe

“Frau Betzler.”

“Yes, Captain Klenzendorf?”

“Are you the reason there’s no more silk for parachutes?”

“This old thing?” Rosie put away her lipstick and leaned back against Karl. She watched his hands slide around her hips and down her stomach. “How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” Karl lied as he bent to kiss her bare neck. 

“And, will you be taking me to bed and making love to me tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

Rosie woke up to the sound of retching. She found Karl in the bathroom bent over the toilet again. “Do you want me to make you some _kräutertee_ to settle your stomach?” she asked as she rubbed his hair.

Karl turned his head, and Rosie could see the tears in his eyes. 

“What did I do, Karl? Was it Madame Gisella?”

Karl shook his head. “Admittedly, I wasn’t prepared for that. It’s not you.”

“What’s wrong, _liebling_?”

Karl stood up from the toilet. There was nothing but spit and bile in the bowel. He flushed it away. “I think I could use some tea, hmm?” He looked down at her, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her face possessed with intense worry. Of anyone she would understand and absolve him of any blame, but he had gone on that tirade in a meeting where he shouldn’t have even whispered let alone spoken. If only he’d done what family tradition told him and entered the Army as a young man then married his darling Schatzie…Well, they might have been wrapped up in that plot from this past summer, and they and their children would have been executed, too.

Rosie sighed. Karl wasn’t going to tell her what bothered him so much it made him vomit. “I’ll get you a cup of tea.” When she came back with the tea tray, Karl was pacing and smoking a cigarette in her room. Rosie said nothing. She handed him a cup of tea and then opened the shutters and window just a little. She sat down in her reading chair, and Karl sat down on the floor next to her, leaning his cheek against her silk covered thighs. While he sipped his tea, Rosie took the cigarette out of his hand for a puff.

“I haven’t seen you smoke since you got pregnant with Inge.” 

Rosie handed back the cigarette. “It’s the one thing the Führer and I agree on. When Paul first went missing, I used to go up in the attic and smoke out the window. One night I sat up there trying to stay warm, keep the cigarette from being soaked in blowing rain, and keep smoking, I asked myself what the hell I was doing.” She gently smoothed his hair. “What’s bothering you?”

Karl sighed. “Is this the coffee service I gave you and Paul for your wedding?”

“Yes,” Rosie answered with a smile. “I remember you coming over to our apartment with a huge tray of pastries the day after we’d gotten back from our honeymoon in Paris. Paul was ready to strangle you.”

“I recall you two were still in bed at three on a Sunday afternoon.”

“We had things to do,” Rosie said dismissively.

“My mother was terribly disappointed when I told her you had married and were pregnant. I wisely skipped Christmas with the family that year.”

“She really wanted you to marry me.”

“She wanted me to marry anyone.” Karl stood up and went to the window. He opened the shutters a little more in order to throw out his cigarette butt. He looked out the slender gap with his good eye, looking for any pinprick of light beyond the stars on the frost. He felt Rosie’s hands slide around his waist and her cheek pressed on his back. 

“You can tell me, Karl. I’ve always kept your secrets,” she whispered.

Karl turned around in Rosie’s arms. He kissed her and kissed her again then suddenly picked her up and took her back to bed. 


End file.
